Page 75 of Wrong Score

And for the first time in a long time, I feel at peace. I’m ready. And no matter what comes next, I know I’m not alone.

Chapter Thirty-One

Bex

Rowan walks through the door, and it’s the first time since I left her standing in the stadium that my world starts spinning again. My breathing stalls and my chest tightens, being this close to her. I haven’t seen her since… well, since I’d let my own insecurities get the best of me, accusing her of doing exactly what every other reporter I’d ever known would’ve done.

The article.

I was so damn sure she’d betrayed me, and without a second thought, I’d thrown words at her that still haunt me. But I know better now, don’t I?

I’ve replayed every conversation, every look she’s ever given me, trying to figure out how I could’ve been so wrong. I should have known she was different. Hell, Ididknow. I was just too blind, too scared to see it. And now, here she is, standing in my office, and the look in her eyes, the determination shadowed by something else, something that cuts right through me says that this isn’t easy for her either.

She steps forward, and my mind races with how to begin. An apology? It feels so damn inadequate, but it’s all I’ve got.

“Rowan, I’m sorry—”

She cuts me off with three words that flip my world on its head. “I’m pregnant.”

The room stills. It’s as if those words have halted time itself. I feel heat rising up the back of my neck, that’s not what I thought she was about to say. I thought she was here to curse me out, to tell me that I’m right to believe that I should stick to hockey. That all I ever do is hurt people who care about me, put everyone second to hockey, too stuck in the game to notice that the article sounded nothing like Rowan at all.

I should have seen it like Leo did. For Christ’s sake, I should know her writing better than he does. I’ve read every article she’s ever written since the first time I saw her two years ago sitting front row during a post game interview with the press,

But that’s not what she said. And now I can’t seem to find my voice.

“You’re… pregnant?” I manage, my voice thick with disbelief, hope, and something like awe.

“Yes. And I promise, I didn’t know this could happen. My doctor told me it was impossible—at least, that’s what I thought. We tried… Drew and I tried… and nothing worked. I accepted it.” She pauses, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I didn’t think this was possible.”

I step closer, watching as she stares down, clearly wrestling with her own emotions. The sadness, the guilt—it’s all there. But there’s something else too, something softer, hopeful. I reach out, hooking a finger under her chin, gently tilting her face up to meet my gaze.

When her eyes meet mine, there’s a sheen to them, like she’s on the verge of tears, but she is one of the stronger women I’ve ever met and I know it would take a lot to break her down. Still, I can see it in her eyes, the same fears and uncertainty mirrored in my own. She’s pleading with me to be kind, to understand. If she only knew how hard the time apart has been for me too.

“Aren’t you going to ask if it’s yours?” she asks, her lips trembling.

“No. I don’t need to. I already know it’s mine,” I say gently, trying to show her that she shouldn’t be afraid of what she has to tell me.

“How could you know that?” she asks, searching my eyes for truth.

“Because I wanted you pregnant in that limo. It was subconscious—I didn’t know it then, but I know it now. I wanted to give you something that Drew never could. And I think there’s been a part of me that’s wanted to tether us together for a long time.”

She has no idea that ever since the gala, her and this baby are the only things I’ve been sure of anymore. My heart is pounding in a way I’ve never felt before. I swallow, letting that truth settle deep inside, the reality of it all finally taking hold. She’s carrying my child.Ourchild.

She nods but her eyes don’t soften with relief the way I expected them to. “Then you should know that I’m keeping it,” she says, lifting her chin just a fraction, a flicker of defiance there despite the tears brimming in her eyes. “I’m keeping this baby.”

“Are you happy about it?” The words are out before I can stop them, and I realize, shamefully, that a part of me needs her answer more than I can admit.

She nods, a small, trembling smile appearing on her lips. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

In that instant, I’m overwhelmed by a tidal wave of emotions. Regret, pride, longing—all tangled up in the thought of her carrying my child. And seeing her here, willing to bring this life into the world, even after everything I put her through… it’s humbling and I can’t help but want to make her dreams a reality in return. I take another step closer, reaching for her hand.

“Are you happy it’s mine?” I ask, needing to hear it, needing to know that she’s as certain as I am.

She studies my face, and I hope she can see it in my eyes how much she means to me, how sorry I am for not believing her. Her gaze softens, and her eyes well with tears, a soft, grateful smile spreads across her lips.

“I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else’s,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.

That’s all I need. In one swift movement, I pull her into my arms, my lips crashing against hers as if it’s the only way to tell her everything I’ve been holding back. She clings to me, her hands pressing against my jaw, her lips answering my unspoken question…Do you forgive me?

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